Blurb-
After a mission in a South American jungle goes
wrong, DEA Agent Elgin ‘Hud’ Huddleston returns to his boyhood home to lick his
wounds. Despite his better judgment, Hud is drawn to the woman across the
street, a petite Dominatrix with a freeze your balls off name.
Mary Beth Winters packed away her toys and put the BDSM lifestyle behind
her years ago when she realized the men she dominated didn’t need her as much
as she needed them. But when a troubled bad-boy, Elgin ‘Hud’ Huddleston, moves
in across the street, she dusts off her toy box and risks her heart to help him
heal.
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Here's a snippet where Elgin finds out just what Mary Beth is capable of -
Hud
looked at the door, unsure what to do now. He’d gone for a walk and found
himself outside her studio door, frozen to the spot. His heart pounded in his
chest. He recognized the symptoms of the fight or flight response. Elevated
heart rate, shallow breathing and heightened sensory perception. He couldn’t
have mustered an erection if his life depended on it. His body was primed to do
battle. He’d never run from a challenge in his life, and he wasn’t going to
start with a pint-sized woman who thought she was a fem-dom. He remembered how
she’d run practically screaming from his house when she’d seen his handcuffs.
What real fem-dom would do that?
No,
he had nothing to fear from Ms. Frost Your Balls Winters. He’d go in there,
tell her what was what, and have her naked under him in minutes. Maybe he’d let
her spank him a little first so she’d feel like a real fem-dom. He smiled.
Yeah, she’d like that, and he would too. He knocked on the door. When she
called out as if she’d been expecting him, he opened the door and stepped
inside.
She
sat with her back to the door and didn’t bother to turn and greet him. He took
in her skimpy summer outfit, her bare feet with pink-tipped toes, her fire red
hair pulled into a high ponytail and almost sighed with relief. No, this was no
fem-dom, just a woman who was a little too brave for her own good. He mentally
stripped her before he even got the door closed.
“Go
relieve yourself,” she pointed to a door in the corner, “the bathroom is over
there.”
What?
He couldn’t believe his ears. She still hadn’t moved or so much as looked at
him. He glanced over her shoulder to see what she was working on. Her attention
was focused on a clay sculpture in front of her. He moved so he could see it
better. The sculpture was about a foot high, and even to his untrained eye, he
could tell it was exquisite. She was putting what looked like the finishing
touches on a miniature cowboy carrying his saddle. Lines on his face conveyed
his weariness, the lines of his body shouted his fatigue. Hud had never seen
anything like it. At the sound of her voice, Hud snapped his gaze from the
statue, to the artist.
“What
part of that did you not understand?” she asked without moving her eyes from
her work.
“I’m
supposed to relieve myself? Is that what you said, Mistress?”
“Yes.
Now. When you’re finished, stand over there.”
Why
not? It wasn’t such a big price to pay for having a go at her delectable body.
It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he allowed a woman to play out her
fantasy. Hud followed her orders and took up his position in the spot she’d
indicated. She continued to ignore him until he’d just about had enough, and
then she looked up from her work.
Her
eyes raked over him, and he had the impression she was mentally undressing him
as thoroughly as he’d undressed her in his mind. Something about her perusal
made him want to squirm, but he held still. “Do you always wear black?”
“Yes,
Mistress.” Yeah, he could play this game. She jumped off the high stool she’d
been sitting on and walked around the worktable. He followed her with his eyes,
admiring the curve of her legs and the fine bones in her feet and ankles. She
stopped and dug around in a large pink canvas bag that sat on the end of the
flower-print covered sofa along the long wall opposite the door. His heart
almost stopped beating when she pulled out a serious looking set of leather
handcuffs and a length of chain. Whoa there! Where the hell did she get those?
All the fight went out of him and all he could think about was getting the hell
out of there, but she was such a little thing. How much harm could she do
anyway? He willed his body to relax and his feet to stay put.
“Hold
out your hands.”
Hud
allowed her to fasten the cuffs around his wrists. She hooked them together
with a short length of chain that looked like it came from a hardware store. If
he twisted his hands around, he’d be able to unfasten the cuffs, he reasoned,
as panic threatened to set in. He was momentarily distracted by the sweet
curves of her ass as she walked away from him. She picked up a step stool and
dropped it next to his feet. “Take your shoes off.”
He
toed his shoes off and kicked them to the side. When he looked up from his
task, Mary Beth was on the step stool, a head above him. In one hand, she held
an S hook attached to a chain and pulley, the other she reached down to him.
“Give me your hands.”
Hud
swallowed hard and lifted his shackled hands. For the first time, he thought he
might have underestimated Mary Beth Winters. She looped the chain at his wrists
through the hook, and with a hand on the pulley chain, she jumped off the stool.
Hud watched in dawning horror as she pulled the chain tight enough to make his
shoulders burn and secured the pulley chain to a hook on the wall, well out of
his reach, even if he had his hands free. He cursed under his breath. How had
he missed the chain pulley overhead? If he’d been on a mission, a mistake like
that would mean he’d be dead.
“Spread
your feet apart.” She kicked his instep, and he slid his foot out. His
shoulders screamed at the added stretch. “I’m going to ask you a question,
Elgin, and I want an answer. You’ll stay here, just like this, until I get one.
Is that clear?”
“Yes,
Mistress.”
“I
should have asked this one first. Do you have a safe word?”
“Uncle,
Mistress.”
“Okay.
If you say Uncle, I’ll release you, and this will be over. We, will be over. Do
you understand, Elgin?”
“Yes,
Mistress.”
“Good.
Now, I asked you this morning and you refused to answer, so I’m going to ask
again. Where did the name Elgin come from?”
He’d
be damned if he was going to tell her. As far as he knew, everyone who knew was
dead, except him, and it was a story he fully planned to take to the grave with
him. He held his tongue.
“Do
you think I’m playing games here, Elgin? I assure you, I’m not. You will tell
me.” Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans. He sucked in a
breath as she flicked the top button open and pulled the zipper down.
“Tighty-whities, Elgin? From now on you will come to me commando, no underwear.
Do you understand?”
“Yes,
Mistress. I understand.”
A
moment later, she shoved the underwear down just enough to free his limp penis
and balls. She tucked the cotton briefs beneath his package and refastened the
top button of his jeans. He looked past her bent head to see his penis hanging
from his open zipper. The teeth of the zipper dug into his skin. He gritted his
teeth and mentally called himself a stupid fucker in several languages. She
didn’t look like a Lorena Bobbitt, but then again, Lorena Bobbitt didn’t look
like the kind of woman who’d lop off a guy’s pecker either. He mentally went
over the tools he’d seen on her workbench. Did sculptors use knives? He’d seen
plenty of other tools there that could inflict serious damage, and that was
enough to scare the bejesus out of him.
He
closed his eyes and fought down the panic threatening to take him under. He’d
never underestimated an opponent the way he’d underestimated Mary Beth Winters.
He just hoped she wasn’t some kind of crazy serial killer. She took his penis
in her soft little hand and toyed with it. He idly wondered if he’d ever have
an erection again.
As
if she’d read his mind, she said, “Don’t worry, Elgin. I’m not going to hurt
you.” He felt the air stir around him as she moved away. He counted to one
hundred before he opened his eyes. She’d removed the cowboy sculpture from her
workbench and replaced it with a lump of clay covered with what looked like a
wet towel. He watched as she removed the towel and began to work the clay with
her hands.
She acted as if he wasn’t in the room. His
shoulders burned, and his fingers grew numb from lack of blood flow. His legs
and back hurt from trying to maintain his posture to relieve the pressure on
his shoulders. If he relaxed even the slightest bit, his shoulders and arms
protested. The one time he’d moved his feet a fraction of an inch, Mary Beth
had looked up from her work and reminded him all he had to do was answer her
question, and she’d let him go. Then she’d hopped off her throne, that’s what
he was beginning to call her stool in his head, and kicked his feet further
apart. “Don’t move them again,” was all she said before she returned to her
work.
It
seemed like hours he hung there. He wondered how long his arms and fingers
could go without blood flow. Mary Beth ignored him. Time passed slowly. He
focused on her hands, hoping to distract himself from his discomfort. Her hands
were skilled at what she did. It didn’t take him long to come to that
conclusion. The lump of clay was taking shape. He couldn’t make out exactly
what she was doing, but somehow, he knew it would be exquisite when she was
done.
“Why
do you want to know about my name?”
She
didn’t look up when she answered. “Names define people, don’t you think?”
“No.
Who are you, Mary Beth Winters? You’re not like any fem-dom I’ve ever met.”
“I’m
an open book, Elgin. If you want to know something about me, just ask.”
He
did. He asked, and she answered. He learned she was from Houston. She owned the
art gallery he’d seen in town, and mostly sold her art over the internet. “I
have to have someplace to store it, so it might as well be on display while I’m
waiting on a buyer. Sometimes people come to the gallery because they want to
see a piece in person before they buy it. I also display and sell work from
other local artists. It helps pay the bills.”
He
learned she’d trained as a fem-dom in one of the best known clubs in Houston,
and after she’d fallen for a sub and he’d confessed he only liked to play at
the lifestyle, that he couldn’t live it for the rest of his life, she’d picked
up stakes and moved to Prairieview. That bit of information about her training
convinced him she knew what she was doing. By now, he’d pretty much decided he
wasn’t in danger of losing his cock, which relieved him beyond measure.
She
didn’t ask again about his name, and he’d run out of questions to ask, so he
did his best to ignore his screaming muscles and concentrated on her hands. It
wasn’t that she sculpted the clay as much as she seduced it into doing what she
wanted. Hud imagined her hands on him, stroking, molding and coaxing. To his
chagrin, his cock began to swell. He hoped to God she didn’t notice, but he
wasn’t to be that lucky.
“You
want me to touch you? Tell me what I want to know, Elgin and I’ll give you some
relief. You want to come, don’t you?”
Mary
Beth returned her attention to the clay. Every finger stroke drove him closer
to the brink. He wanted her hands on him, on his cock. He tried to will his
erection to go down, but once he had it in his head that he had to have her, it
wouldn’t obey.
“If
you don’t trust me enough to tell me something so personal, then tell me
something else. Tell me why you came back to Prairieview.”
“That’s
personal too,” he said through gritted teeth.
She
slid off her throne and wiped her hands on a wet cloth she kept on the table.
She went to the bathroom and a minute later he heard the water running. She
came out with clean hands and rummaged in the canvas bag again. He cringed at
the wicked piece of plastic in her hands. God, he was in deep trouble. No one
had ever used one on him, but he’d seen plenty of other men milked before. It
looked painful, and humiliating.
She
stopped in front of him. Her fingers were cool as she stroked along his stubbled
jaw, then brushed a lock of hair from his temple. “Tell me something, Elgin.
Tell me something, so I’ll know you trust me. If you don’t, I’m going to use
this on you.”
He
clamped his mouth shut and let his head fall back. He closed his eyes against
the panic making his heart beat like a runaway steam engine. He wouldn’t tell
her. He wouldn’t.
She
freed the button on his jeans and shoved them and his underwear down over his
hips. His cock sprang free of its restraints, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
She took his cock in her cold hand and slid the plastic tube over it. The
bottom edge pressed tight against his pubic bone. Oh God! She was going to do
it. She was going to pump the come out of him. Air swished and whirred as she
worked the bulb at the end of the tube, creating a vacuum, sucking his cock
with every squeeze of her fist on the little ball. Ah, shit! It hurt like a
son-of-a-gun!
“Tell
me what I want to know, and I’ll let you have relief in a much more pleasant
way.”
Hud
thought about the way her tight little pussy would feel. She’d be tight and wet
and hot, and there wouldn’t be a damned thing painful about it. He wanted her.
God, he wanted her, not some godforsaken plastic torture device.
“My
mother. My mother gave me the name.”
“Why?”
“Stop
the fuck torturing me, and I’ll tell you.”
“Tell
me, and I’ll stop.”
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